めい

Eleanor Watson (British, b. 1990), Pink Light, 2018. Oil on paper, 29.8 × 19.1 cm

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Oil, 102.4 x 85.8 cm.

Philippe de Rougemont (detail)

Jack Vanzet

Botticelli’s Venus as part of a slide show on buildings during the Festival of Lights in Lyon, France.

I’ve been thinking about Jack Frost a lot. Thinking of what part of my literal and fictional history he may have leapt from. I have been left low these last few days with some dreary winter affliction. So my mind went today to a higher place. I remembered that I spent much of my childhood in any number of trees. I had little interest in the various uses of a ball so my games were of climbing and concealment, of observation and attack and all the other rich possibilities that time spent among tree limbs would afford. I remembered how much I loved the old 1930s Tarzan movies. How i so wanted to live with Tarzan and Jane and Boy in their vast tree mansion with its elevators powered by patient, devoted elephants. I remembered the Swiss Family Robinson and their multileveled tree digs fashioned from bits of the ship that marooned them on their adventure rich island. That island had the most perfect tree in tree climbing history. Long, low, thick as a path limbs that seemed to course on and up forever. That tree was the most perfect aboral and architectural convection ever devised by nature (or more precisely by Disney set designers) And it was the most intoxicating tree house in cinema history. Then my memories went to Peter Pan, the wild, eternal boy of the air who lived inside of a tree. All these things and people are part of my Jack Frost. But the biggest part of him comes from my childhood self. A daydreamy kid, always waiting for something impossible to happen. I liked not being seen. I liked the near invisibility that limbs and leaves bestowed. Trees hold a special place in the lives of children. They seem safe. And wise. And comforting. They allow endless daydreams and shelter from dragons. They are castles in the air and private palaces where sorrows can be tucked away from prying parents. It’s no wonder my house is tree house plentiful. When our garage apartment went up in flames I made it into a tree enshrouded folly, a roofless house so open to nature it must be raked in autumn. It’s been a good sick day in bed. Remembering how and why Jack is such a tree bound lad. #jackfrost #rotg #peterpan #tarzan #treesofinstagram https://www.instagram.com/p/BrjG8EQhyk3/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=s4uphoy4etgq

not the spookiest but definitely the cutest